No Two Snowflakes Are Exactly The Same
by Lunar Penguin CPhT
Summary: And neither are my entries into the Comment!fic challenge on M M! Enjoy!


**Marshall: moving on, Haunting Me by Stabbing Westward**

There was so much blood. Mary lay before him; lifeless and cold. Her dead eyes stared at the sky above as the rain fell onto her. Marshall felt no rain, no cold, no feelings. He took a long drag of his cigarette before flicking it onto her stiff body. Finally, he turned to walk away.

"You can't haunt me if I've moved on," he muttered over his shoulder as her blood crept closer to him; as if it was trying to latch itself to him.

**Mary/Marshall, moonless night, gunpowder**

Mary and Marshall sat in the abandoned gas station for god knows how long with Mr. Personality chained to a pipe behind them. There was no moon out that night and the only light came from the glow of their cell phones.

And they were close to dead on battery life.

Mary wasn't sure what had come over her but all of a sudden she was pressing her lips against her suffering partner's cheek. Maybe it was the way he described their partnership so perfectly, so eloquently. Even while coughing up blood, the man could make cockroaches seem enchanting.

However, she supposed she could blame it on the lingering scent of gunpowder that messed with her head.

**Mary/Marshall; Next Go Round by Nickelback**

The scent of sweat lingered in the air as the duo laid in sprawled positions on the bed; well one of them was on the bed... the other had the upper half of his body lying on the floor.

Marshall heaved a contented sigh while coming down from his post-coitus euphoria. He didn't recognize the feeling of Mary's wet mouth over his cock until it was halfway down her throat. He jumped a little in surprise (almost kicking her in the head) before settling down to enjoy the ride once more.

Mary used her tongue in ways Marshall never thought possible; nor should it be legal to use one in the ways she was. She sucked and licked and applied varying amounts of pressure with her lips and tongue.

Marshall saw nothing and everything. The colors around him didn't form any recognizable patterns; just blurs and blotches. The world went white as his orgasm overtook him and he was soaring through the clouds.

Coming down from this wasn't gentle like it normally was. Given the intensity (and surprise) of Mary's technique, Marshall crashed back to earth with neck-breaking force. Almost instantly, Mary was crawling down his body to kiss him as he took shuddering breaths to bring himself back.

**Mary, Marshall, anyone else?; Firefly marathon, bickering**

"A what?"

"A sci-fi western," Marshall grinned as Mary tried to pair the two genres together in her head, "it's by Joss Whedon, so you know it's good."

"Can't I just do your paperwork or something?"

"Nope," his grin grew wider, "My bet, my rules!"

"Fiiine..." Mary settled herself onto the couch as Marshall put in the 1st DVD. ""So how do you put a sci-fi and western series together? And who the hell is Joss Whedon!"

"He did the series "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". You saw that show, right?"

"Yeah, David Boreanaz was kind of hot in it," she glanced up and to the right as she recalled the series.

"Well, you'll like this, I promise," Marshall couldn't grow weary of their bickering; but he really wanted to watch this.

"If you say so..."

_3 Episodes later_

"So, he's now officially called Captain Tight Pants and the rest are hereby known as "The Space Brigade!"

"If you say so..." he mimicked her words from 3 hours earlier and found he had to shield himself from a barrage of pillows thrown his way.

**Brandi, Marshall; hobo platter**

"I saved a hobo once," Brandi looked down at her plate and pushed her potatoes around with her fork.

"What brought this up?" Marshall's scoop of oatmeal paused halfway between his bowl and his mouth.

"There's a dish on here called the 'hobo platter'," she met his eyes; her own watering with tears as she remembered the experience, "it just reminded me of it." She shrugged before looking back down at her food.

Marshall was stunned into silence.

"Sorry, I'm late," Mary slid into the booth beside her sister and opened her menu; oblivious to the awkward silence that hung in the air between her best friend and sister. "Hey, waitress?" she flagged her down rather obnoxiously, "I'll have the hobo and a coffee."

**Marshall, Faber, Slap Bet, "wait for it..."**

Marshall had been well-informed of Agent Faber's intentions towards his partner.

_"I bet I can get her to go out with me," Faber had oozed charm right out of his pores and Marshall was convinced that Mary would say no.___

_"I'll take that bet," Marshall felt guilty for betting on his partner's love life but decided to get something for himself out of it, "Let's make it more interesting... Slap bet?"___

_Faber looked up at Marshall and grinned, "Yeah sure," he stuck out his hand for Marshall to shake.___

_Mary had said no and Marshall couldn't find time to slap Faber in the face without Mary seeing it, so he settled for a look that screamed 'I told you so'._

A couple of months later, Faber came to Albuquerque and Marshall was sent on that ridiculously-timed witness transfer. Still no chance to slap that crapweasel in the face.

Another couple of months passed and Marshall was a yarn's width from telling Mary how he felt about her. And she ran. To Mexico. Marshall had been under the impression that she'd gone alone to relax.

He arrived at the airport to pick her up after her two week Mexican adventure. He was early and saw on the display screen that her flight was just pulling in. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out. It wasn't from a number he recognized. The area code gave it away all the same: Colorado.

**Wait for it...**

Marshall was perplexed at the message and his heart sank to his stomach as he looked to the gate and saw Mary headed her way; Faber in tow.

Well wasn't that just a nice slap in the face?

**Mary, Marshall; character death, in-case-of-death letter**

The morning dawned cold and gray. The trees were naked and the ground hard under his feet. Marshall barely heard the minister officiating the ceremony as he tried to hold back his tears. He had to be the strong one; for her. She would want him; no NEED him to be strong.

He stepped closer to wrap an arm around her shoulders as the casket was lowered into the ground. One by one, people left the grave site to go on with their lives. The departed wouldn't easily be forgotten.

The pair stood there a while longer not feeling the chilly December air that bit at their exposed faces. Marshall hugged her closer to him, "Come on, the lawyer is waiting for us."

She nodded against his shoulder as she took one last look at the head stone and allowed him to steer her back to the car.

Marshall stared around the room at the faces that gathered there; some familiar, some not, all with one thing in common: the reading of the will. He reached over to grab the hand of the grieving woman beside him.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he turned around to see Mary enter the room. She sent him a look of compassion and he offered her a smile in return. He felt as if he was dreaming the whole experience; nothing felt real.

He barely paid attention as the will was read and people once again began to take their leave. Marshall felt as if he was floating as he left the building. He drove home in his grief-induced stupor and blinked as he saw Mary sitting on his front porch.

He didn't feel his feet hit the concrete as he made his way to her.

"Mary?"

She looked up at him; her face gray and haunted. She locked eyes with him for a brief second before looking back at her hands. He followed her gaze and noticed the envelope for the first time.

"Mary, what is that?" he whispered. He was afraid she'd disappear.

"It's a letter... I found it in my mailbox when I got home from the funeral." Tears rolled down her cheek as she fiddled with the unopened envelope. "I wanted to see if you got one too."

Marshall reached over her shaking frame to reach into his mailbox. Sure enough, there was an envelope that matched hers. His heart leapt to his throat as he held it in his hands. Remembering where he was, he unlocked his door and invited Mary in.

Together, they sat in his living room nervously fiddling with their respective envelopes. Marshall was the first to take the plunge. He slipped a long finger between the paper and gently tore it open. He drew in a breath that lasted the entire time it took to open it. Deliberately keeping his eyes away from Mary, he unfolded the paper.

_Dear Marshall...___

_I wanted you to know what an honor it was to know you. You truly are one of the most admirable human beings I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. As I am lying here hooked up to machines that are only prolonging my death, I am reminded of the lost, out of place, awkward kid that I first met. You've grown so much; and I've gotten to watch it all.___

_I am writing to you because this is my one and only chance to say this: Tell her. You love her. Tell her how you feel. She loves you back. Don't fight it. She is like a daughter to me and I wouldn't tell you to do this if I didn't think it was for the best of causes.___

_Both of your happinesses are all that matter. Be happy, Marshall. Don't let anyone get in you way of achieving true happiness. You have become so much like a son to me and I'm forever grateful for the happiness and excitement you brought to my life.___

_Grieve not. Don't dwell on the 'could have beens'. Learn from every experience.___

_And tell her you love her.___

_All my love, ___

_Stan McQueen_

*Take 2*

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me…"

Mary barely heard the priest as he conducted Marshall's last rites. She felt nothing and everything at once. She stood numbly by Marshall's bed with his cold hand in hers. He had passed away only moments ago and she still thought he'd wake up any second and smile at her in that way only he could.

But he never did.

Despite her best efforts, a tear escaped her eye and descended down her cheek as if it had escaped the gates of hell. Gradually, more followed; Cerberus never stood a chance. She now sobbed openly for her lost partner.

The next day she found herself in his house. Of all people, she'd been charged with finding a suit for him to be buried in. Tentatively, she stood in his kitchen. Dirty dishes were still waiting for him in the sink. Normally, he washed them immediately. However, that morning had been hurried and he'd been forced to leave them; just as she had to leave Raph and pancakes.

She couldn't bring herself to clean them. Cleaning them would cement the reality that he was gone. No more trivia, no more obscure references, no more cowboy boots, no more Marshall.

Mary's knees gave out beneath her as sobs racked her body. Marshall was gone; she hadn't been able to save him. She curled into a fetal position on the floor as she cried.

She didn't know how long she laid there. It was long enough for her joints to get stiff from lack of movement. Slowly, Mary pried herself off the floor and made her way to his bedroom. She had to brace herself against the door frame as everything that was Marshall overloaded her senses. His scent invaded her nostrils, the indent on his pillow from the last night he slept in his bed caught one of her eyes, and a pair of Flintstones pajama pants tossed haphazardly on the bed caught her other eye.

She felt as if she was suspended in time as she looked around his room. The walls were painted a light green with brown trim. There was a violin in one corner which she didn't know he played, various pictures of his parents, brothers dotted the surfaces, as well as many creations of his from Origami classes.

She took a deep breath of Marshall and made her way over to his closet. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet. One floorboard creaked a little more than the others and Mary halted. She knelt on the floor and knocked. It was hollow. Looking around her, she slipped her finger between the boards and lifted up a plank. Feeling around inside, her hand brushed across a box. Tears welled up in her eyes once more as she pulled the box from its hiding place.

Mary sat on the edge of his bed with the box in her lap. Whatever was in this box was something Marshall didn't want the world to see. Whatever was in this box was not meant for anyone's eyes; not even hers. She debated opening the box out of respect for his wishes. Curiosity eventually won out as she opened it with guilt.

Inside the box was a single envelope. The envelope had her name on it. Mary didn't notice the tear escape until it dotted the paper. She brushed a hand across her face as she gingerly picked up the envelope and opened it.

_Hey Mare,_

_By now you know that I'm a coward. Rather than being a man and telling you this in person, you're reading it in a letter._

_The Marshal Service is all I've ever wanted; until about three years ago. Until three years ago, I was content to live my life as I had been. I'd been content to sit idly by and help others change their lives without making any to mine. I felt that was all there was to life. I was content to know that I was making a difference in the lives of others. I didn't care about my own; as long as I made others happy._

_I suppose that still holds true. As long as you're happy, then I'm happy. But three years ago, I decided there was something more that I wanted from life: you._

_Mary, I am hopelessly, desperately, and madly in love with you; I'm a coward for never being able to say it. You are everything to me; my world revolves around you. I'm so sorry that you had to find out this way._

_That's why I had to leave. I took a job outside the Marshal Service. I need to move on with life and so do you. I can't live my life on this same path anymore. I'm never going to be what you need and I can't be here, knowing I'll never have you._

_Rest assured that this is killing me on the inside; but it's for the best. You'll get another partner and hopefully you'll live your life to its fullest. Always know that I'm looking at the same stars as you and you're always in my thoughts._

_I'm so sorry for leaving. I'm so sorry for the many promises this breaks. I'm so sorry for causing you pain. I can't be your keeper anymore. I have to do this for myself._

_I'll always love you._

_Marshall_

Mary found herself wrapped in his blanket; inhaling his scent on the pillow. So much emotion was put into that letter. She never got the chance to tell him that she loved, no, loves him too. She failed him. The suit forgotten, Mary curled up beneath his covers and cried herself to sleep. Mourning would come; and it would start tonight.

**Mary, Marshall, Eleanor; Stan: The Musical**

"I don't know, I think an old-time comedy act is a better fit," Marshall took a large bit of his salad.

"Old-time comedy? Like Abbott and Costello?" Mary dropped her fork and stared aghast at her partner, "No, no, a musical is a better way to interpret it."

"Oh come on, 'Stan: The Musical'? Who in their right mind would pay to see that?" It was Marshall's turn to stare in disbelief.

"Oh, Marshall! You know deep down that a song with lyrics akin to 'I'm Stan, I'm the Man, I do what I can, that's why I have this Van," wouldn't be anything short of amazing!" Mary argued her point with more enthusiasm as she felt her case being torn apart.

"What are you two going on about now?" Eleanor called out from across the room.

"Eleanor, maybe you can settle this disagreement as an unbiased third party," Marshall grinned over at her.

Eleanor stood up and walked over to the 'children' and stood with her hands on her hips.

"Ok, Eleanor," Marshall gave her his most charming smile hoping to curry favor, "the debate is this; which of these forms of entertainment best suits Stan: a musical or an old-time comedy act?"

Eleanor put on a show of deep thought; her lips pursed, she tapped her finger on her chin, and she looked to the ceiling as if God would tell her the answer. Finally, she looked each of them in the eyes before giving her answer.

"Neither," she shrugged.

"What do you mean 'neither'?" Mary stood up and stood in her intimidation position with her hands on the table as she stared down her arch-nemesis, "What else is there?"

Marshall looked between them in amusement and curiosity.

"The ringmaster of a three-ring circus," Eleanor was not fazed by Mary's intimidation tactic, "especially when it comes to you two." Eleanor smiled sweetly at the partners before turning on her booted heel and returned to her filing.

**Mary, Marshall, Peter/Brandi; a night on the town, musical theater**

"Remind me again why we're here?" Mary whispered to Marshall as they trailed Brandi and Peter by at least five steps.

"Because you heard the word 'free' and you agreed without thinking about it," Marshall grinned down at her as he walked the streets of New York City.

Mary glared up at him silently and he couldn't stop smiling at her obvious frustration.

"Come on, it'll be fun!" He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as he attempted to get them caught up to their hosts.

"I hate you," she said as she sped up her pace to match his long strides. Not an easy task in three inch heels.

"I know," he answered as they caught up to Peter and Brandi.

Peter stopped in front of the playhouse. After handing each of them their tickets, he led them inside where they found their seats on one of the side balconies.

Mary shifted in her seat about six times before finally settling into the chair. Marshall looked over at Brandi and noted her similar state of unease. It was obvious that neither of the sisters had ever been in a social setting such as this. He leaned over to whisper in Mary's ear.

"Hey, you okay?" he wrapped his arm around her shoulder once more and hugged her to his side.

"Fine," she said, leaning her head against him. Marshall was surprised at her allowance of contact but made no move to complain.

"I just hate musicals," she mumbled so Peter wouldn't hear.

"Just give this one a shot; it's gotten some great reviews," he squeezed her shoulder as she huffed, "and you liked Robin Hood: Men in Tights, didn't you?"

"Yeah, that movie was freaking awesome!"

"Well, this is done by the same guy," he hugged her to him one last time before letting her go. The lights were going dim signaling the start of the show.

…_Two acts, one intermission, two head explosions, and four busted guts later…_

"That was awesome! Who the hell comes up with this stuff?" Mary held her stomach as the four walked out into the crisp evening air.

"Mel does," Peter said as he wrapped his coat around Brandi's shoulders, "Come to think of it, I never thanked him for the tickets."

"Wait, you know Mel Brooks?" Marshall nearly dropped his coat while putting it on Mary.

"Yeah, back when I lived in Los Angeles, he and I attended Synagogue together. He helped me get through some of my alcoholism. We've been good friends ever since."

Marshall recovered the power of speech first, "Well I'll be damned."

**AU (your choice of setting) Mary/Marshall; Alexander Rybak's Fairytale**

Marshall Mann patrolled the perimeter of the ship with pride. Not many men were chosen for this job; certainly not men at the age of 16 like him. It was the largest ship in the world; not to mention the most luxurious. The R.M.S. Titanic was a day into her maiden voyage and everything was going better than expected.

Pausing a moment, he leaned over the railing and fished a cigarette out of his pocket. He took a few longs drags of it as he looked onto the vast ocean that lay before him. Billions of tiny stars dotted the inky sky and the moon was reflected in the ocean. The air was bitterly cold but he didn't care.

After a few minutes he flicked his cigarette into the water and continued his patrol. Pushing himself from the rail, he turned and almost tripped over a little girl that simply stood there looking at him. He knelt down to her eye level.

"Are you lost, little girl?" Marshall smiled at the small blonde child. She wore 2 coats; one of which was way too big, the other clung to her as if it was hers when she was younger. He doubted she had any clothes that fit her. She shied away from his extended hand as a tear made its way down her cheek. "I won't hurt you," he softened his voice, "can you tell me your name? Mine's Marshall."

"Mary tells me not to talk to strangers," she said in a small voice. As if on cue, a sharp, yet feminine voice called out in the night.

"Brandi! Where are you?"

The little girl turned her head towards the voice and began waving her hands. "I'm over here!"

Marshall stayed in his position bent at the knees. He only stood up when an older blonde girl closer to his age appeared around the corner. Slowly, he rose to his full height as he took in the blonde. For third class, she was beautiful. He could see her eyes shining from where he was standing, and the moon reflected off her blonde hair like a beacon. He was speechless as she approached them.

"Brandi! How many times have I told you not to go running off?" She grabbed the little girl's hand and pulled her closer as the older crouched down.

"I'm sorry, Mary!" Brandi's tears multiplied, "I found an ociffer! This is Marshall!" Her mispronunciation of his title was kind of adorable. He estimated her age was around six or seven.

Mary finally seemed to notice he was standing there. She let go of Brandi's hand and stood up.

"Thank you," she extended her hand to him with a hurried smile.

"It's no problem," Marshall took her hand in his, "I'm glad she found me." His lips curled into a smile as he kissed the back of her hand.

Mary blushed and looked behind her nervously as she shivered. Marshall couldn't tell if the shiver was from the cold or from him but he offered her his coat nonetheless.

"Oh, no, I couldn't," she pushed the coat back at him, "she has mine, it's alright." She ran a hand through her hair as she took possession of Brandi's hand once again. "Thank you again… Marshall, was it? We really should be going!" With that, she hurried off in the direction she'd come from; Brandi in tow.

Marshall watched them until they disappeared again. He would see her again; he just knew it.

_She's a fairytale, yeah even though it hurts__  
__'Cause I don't care if I lose my mind I'm already cursed_

**Anyone; Shakespeare, limericks**

I jumped as a paper football hit me on the side of the head. Looking up, I glared at Marshall who was smiling innocently behind his desk. Smirking, he turned back to his computer as I unfolded the paper triangle. I hadn't received one of these since middle school. My eyes skimmed over the words and I quickly found that I had to focus to understand what it said.

_What is love?_

_'Tis not hereafter._

_Present mirth hath present laughter._

_What's to come is still unsure._

_In delay there lies no plenty._

_Then come and kiss me, sweet and twenty._

_Youth's a stuff will not endure._

"What the hell is this? What language are you learning now?" I turned in my chair and folded my arms across my chest.

"That, my dear, is from Act 2, scene 3 of Shakespeare's 'Twelfth Night' and it just happened to pop into my head; I swear!" He held his hand up in the scout's honor position and crossed a finger over his chest, "It seems to fit so I wrote it down."

I glared at him once again before turning back to my computer. Inspiration struck me as I pulled out my notepad and scribbled a response.

_My partner is sex on a stick_

_There's no inch of him I've not licked._

_He is such a good fuck_

_And I'm ne'er out of luck_

_For he is never very quick._

Satisfied with my work, I folded the note into a football and flicked it in his direction. I smiled with glee while his face turned red as he read what I'd written.

"Suddenly, I wish I'd never taught you to write limericks," Marshall shook his head as he folded up the note and put it into his breast pocket.

**Mary/Marshall; Night off, Fortune Cookies, Stories**

"What about now?"

Marshall all but dropped his chopsticks in surprise at her question. He cast a sideways glance in her direction and decided to test the waters before diving right in, "What about now… for what?" His mind was racing in all sorts of directions to try and figure out how this story would play out.

"That's what my fortune cookie says," Mary held the little slip of paper out to him, "Why? What did you think I was talking about?"

Marshall visibly relaxed as he took the slip of paper from her, "Nothing, I was just confused; that's all. What a weird fortune…" he squinted at the paper.

"Oh," was all Mary said as she returned her focus to her lo mein. She never understood why she liked to read her fortune cookie before eating her meal.

Marshall was sure he'd never had a more awkward night off in his entire life. He finished up his food before reaching for his cookie.

"Don't fight it," he quirked an eyebrow as he read his fortune.

"What? Let me see that!" Mary crawled over to his spot on the floor and tore the fortune from his hands, "I think this one was meant for me," she mumbled before she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fiercely.

Marshall's eyes flew open in surprise as he fell backward with a grunt. It only took a half of a second for him to realize what was happening. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her back with passion.

**Mary, Marshall, Stan Rubble Without Cause- What if Marshall Got Trapped When Running In To Help Mary**

Her witness was priority one; herself second. The man who she was supposed to protect him from stood not five feet from her. Without her earpiece, she couldn't hear Stan frantically calling Marshall back; she most certainly didn't hear Marshall ignoring Stan's orders as he rushed into the building. The explosion rocked the already unsteady foundation as Mary braced herself against one of the boulders that surrounded her. She didn't hear the communication link between Marshall and everyone else go dead.

She thought about her partner, though, as the hit man spoke of loyalty and duty. It was true that she would follow Marshall to the ends of the earth and back. He was her partner; the one person who made everyday bearable. Marshall was her rock. She depended on him just as he depended on her.

Her resolve set in just as the rescue team arrived. Slapping the handcuffs behind Locke's back, she made her way to ground level. Her eyes sought Marshall's but he was nowhere to be seen. She passed her captive off to the other marshals as Stan hurried up to her.

"Mary! Thank god you're alright!" Stan's eyes betrayed his relieved tone.

"Where's Marshall?" Mary looked him right in the eye; searching for answers. Stan looked away as if contemplating something. She tried again, "Stan! Where the hell is Marshall?"

This time, Stan returned her gaze. "He ran in after you and we lost connection to him. We haven't been in contact with Marshall for about 2 hours now."

Without a word, Mary turned and darted back into the building. Once inside, she scoped through all the rubble looking for any clue as to where he was. She called out his name as she searched under every rock. Eventually, she began to hear more people calling out her partner's name.

She took her search floor by floor. She was two thirds of the way through the fourth floor when she heard a low groan.

"Marshall!" Her reward was another groan. It was Marshall and he was in pain. She followed the source of the groan and found him lying under a boulder that was three times his size. "This is Inspector Shannon; I have Inspector Marshall Mann and need a rescue and medic team on the fourth floor stat!" She turned back to her partner, "Hang in there, Marshall, help is coming." She ran a hand through his hair and attempted to hide her fear as she felt something sticky matting it.

"Mare," Marshall breathed.

"Shhh, don't talk," Mary kissed his forehead, "Whatever it is, you can tell me when you're better," she moved her hand to his cheek as she held down the communication button and radioed for help once again.

"Mare," he groaned again, "Mary."

"Marshall, everything will be fine, I'm right here and I'm not leaving your side, you got that?"

Marshall grunted as his eyes drifted shut.

"Marshall! Marshall! Wake up!" she lightly slapped at his face to keep him cognizant but his eyes remained closed, "This is Inspector Shannon, where the fuck is that medic team? Inspector Mann has lost consciousness!" She slapped at his face again, "Marshall!"

The tears came as she tried to jar her partner into consciousness. After what seemed like millennia, the medic team arrived and Marshall was being pried free from his restraints. Mary stayed by his side as he was brought down the stairs and to the hospital.

He was unconscious the entire way.


End file.
